


Who You Callin’ a Ho, Ho?

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Banter, Best Friends, F/F, Femslash, Friendship/Love, Girl Power, Italy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4923631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cristina loves powerful women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who You Callin’ a Ho, Ho?

They were sitting at a cafe in Florence, drinking espresso in tiny cups and watching old Italian ladies stroll around the piazza when Meredith noticed Cristina staring at a picture of Hillary Clinton’s cleavage in the newspaper. The newspaper that was like, two days old but they’d bought anyway because it was in English and they were a little tired of Italian everything. 

But anyway. Cristina was looking at Hillary’s cleavage.

Kind of intently.

Clearly, the stress of being jilted at the altar was getting to Cristina.

“Drool much?” Meredith asked. “I mean, are you into Clinton, politically? I’m kind of thinking Obama. As much as I’ve been thinking about it this early.”

“Seriously? Not exactly. I just dig on powerful women. I have this whole Hilary thing like you don’t even wanna imagine,” Cristina said with a shrug. “There’s something kind of sexy about a woman who could press the trigger and doesn’t. I would, but then again, I have a god complex.”

Meredith looked up from her demitasse. “No, _really?_ ” she asked with faux incredulity before smirking. “Cristina Yang, god complex? Next you’ll tell me you’re arrogant because you can be, and that you like cussing.”

“Don’t make me have to slap the hell out of you, homewrecker,” Cristina said idly, not looking up from the picture. “Jesus, what is wrong with the media? Is it that wrong to have tits? They act like she’s dressed like Princess Fucking Leia, chained up to Bill or something.”

“Seriously. What is it about a woman in a gold lame bikini?” Meredith asked, shaking her head. “I mean, it would be freakin’ uncomfortable, and those hairstyles were just ridiculous.”

“God, her debate performances made me cream the panties,” Cristina interrupted, tilting back in her chair. “I know that I totally would be for Obama or Edwards on the policies, and I should support them, but Hilary is just so…she’s a woman. She’s a woman who’d kick ass after the last six years of bullshit.”

“She could have you any way she wanted you, huh?” Meredith said, snorting. “What about me, huh? I’m here on your honeymoon with you, and you’re fantasizing about Hilary Clinton. What kind of a message is that?”

Cristina paused and shrugged. “Fantasy president girlfriends are neutral. I mean, you told me all about how you wanted to get on that guy. On the plane. You know, that one guy from that show, Wentworth Miller,” she said, gesturing a bit. “So, Hilary is my Wentworth Miller. It’s not like I’d want to go on my honeymoon with her. I’d just rip her panties off with my teeth for putting the smackdown on Republicans in Congress. Especially if she manages to prosecute Dick Cheney.”

“Good to know you have it all figured out,” Meredith said. “Even if that means you’d totally whore yourself for a Cheney conviction.”

“Hey, I am strong, I am bold, I am woman and I appreciate my sisters,” Cristina replied, burping loudly and then scratching her nose. “Also, she is hot and I’m not denying that I would hit that because I have a power fetish.”

“So you’re a freaky perv,” Meredith said, smirking very openly.

“Oh, what did you wear to turn McDreamy on? Might that have been a faux tattoo on your ass cleavage? That you had GEORGE help you apply?” Cristina asked loudly, making a face at Meredith.

Meredith groaned and fell back against the couch cushions. “It took three days to remove. Let that be punishment enough,” she said.

“Three days, seriously?” Cristina asked, gesturing for the waiter. Even though the espresso was expensive, Meredith kind of concurred. How were you supposed to get a caffeine buzz on these tiny cups?

“Punishment. Enough,” Meredith replied. “Freaky perv.”

Cristina made a face. “Ass-cleavage whore.”

“Slut-shaming racist stripper.” Meredith stuck her tongue out.

Out came Cristina’s middle finger. “Homewrecking gameplaying holier-than-thou stereotype.”

“Love you, too.”

“You know it.”

The waiter refilled their cups and smiled vaguely, in the way that indicated that seriously, he found them to be strange and possibly ugly Americans freeloading at his cafe.

“Grazi,” Cristina said sardonically. “Hey, after this, you want to go look at some more famous statues of naked dudes?”

“Only if we can go back to the hotel afterward and make out,” Meredith replied diffidently.

“You are such a total ho,” Cristina said, chuckling. “That’s why you’re on my honeymoon with me.”

Meredith reached under the table and squeezed Cristina’s knee. “You know you love it.”

Cristina’s foot suddenly rubbed against Meredith’s calf. “You know what? To hell with the naked dudes. Let’s go back to the hotel and make out, and then go do cultural things,” she said. “That’s kind of how I imagined my honeymoon, anyway.”

Meredith smiled triumphantly. “Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
